2023.01.17
Last fall, I received the sad news of Professor Klaus Krippendorff's passing. Although he was not my so-called "supervising professor (main advisor)," I took several of his classes when I was studying abroad at the University of Pennsylvania. In fact, I still have the syllabi and notes from that time. It has already been 30 years, so many of my memories are hazy, but I can vividly recall him speaking to us in his German-accented English.
"Models of Communication" was a course focused on building models that abstract and simplify people's communication behavior. Many of the discussions were highly abstract, based on "information theory." Every week, there was a small "quiz" at the end of class. We would submit our "answers" to the professor's mailbox a few days later and receive feedback in the following week's class. The assignments, which involved illustrating communication situations by replacing them with symbols and arrows, did not require many words, and I could tackle them as if solving a puzzle. However, having just arrived in the United States, I struggled with English and was perplexed by the philosophical questions about communication. It took me an enormous amount of time to write a response of about 200 words. I feel like I spent the semester being tossed about by this series of "quizzes," but I think I came to realize the importance of deepening my understanding of mechanisms and methods in order to talk about complex and individual human behavior.
I believe "Social Constructions of Reality" was a newly offered course. It was a class that attempted to understand various "things and events" in daily life through the lens of social construction, based on the so-called constructivist approach. Each student chose a theme, created a bibliography, and presented it in class. The idea that the "field" itself is created through one's own active involvement felt like it fit me perfectly. I was gradually getting used to life as a graduate student and took the course with great empathy for the content, but it was quite difficult to discuss it in class (content that is troublesome to explain even in Japanese). At the end of the semester, we were instructed to write a reflection report titled "What We Learned," make copies for all the students, and bring them to class. Instead of reflecting alone, we retraced the flow of our own thoughts together with our classmates. At the time, I may not have fully understood its value, but now I make it a practice to incorporate such a recursive process into my own teaching.
One day, I visited his office to consult with him about my research and dissertation. After listening to me for a while, Professor Krippendorff responded with something like, "You don't have to be in such a hurry..." Perhaps he wanted to tell me that I still had much more to study. I have forgotten the exact words he used, but I believe his advice was to "engage with it more carefully and thoroughly" instead of rushing to wrap things up.
And now, 30 years later. I am now about the same age as my professor was then, and I interact with students. I believe that some part of who I am today has been shaped by those classes and the words he spoke. I feel I have gained a fair amount of experience, but there are still times when I feel frustrated that my message doesn't seem to get across, no matter how many times I say it. I reflect on my own methods while grappling with my powerlessness as a teacher (or perhaps my lack of virtue as a person). On the other hand, I sometimes reunite with graduates who tell me they remember the words I said back then quite vividly. So, whether something "gets across" or not is the kind of thing we arbitrarily get our hopes up for or feel disappointed about.
This "Okashira Diary" is being published just as students are feeling the pressure before the deadlines for their graduation projects and master's theses. Recalling my past self, I want to say to them, "You don't have to be in such a hurry..." Of course, I know you can't afford to be too relaxed, but since you have worked on this with your own passion, you should take your time and finish it to your own satisfaction.
And then, I say to myself, "You don't have to be in such a hurry..." Even if there is no clear response now, perhaps in 30 years or so, someone might remember my words. Speak many words, meet many people. Cherish conversation. As long as I strive to live each day diligently, that is enough.